At Friday Night Knitting (at Goodwill) I found a skein of wool yarn to buy and when I was waiting in the (surprisingly long) checkout line, look what I found. Necco wafers! I used to love them as a kid and thought they were long gone. They're a whole lot more expensive now but I bought some anyway. They taste the same, and that's a good thing.
When I raked the leaves away from the back of the house I found this yellow rock. The dive sites in Bonaire are marked by rocks painted yellow with the dive site name in black so one year DD nabbed a rock from Garrett Bay, our favorite local site, and painted one for her Dad for Christmas. Now it's living in splendor on the shelf over his computer--with a little piece of Wyoming red rock on top of it. Ahh, travel memories are often the best memories, especially when they're tangled up with memories of fun times as a family.
I made the best stuff for supper last night, hands down. Durwood subscribes to Cooking Light magazine and I saw a recipe for Honey-Sesame Glazed Chicken over his shoulder, got out some chicken, gathered the other ingredients, and made it. Oh. My. God. It was so good. It's got honey, sesame oil, chicken broth, and stone ground mustard in the glaze, then you sprinkle toasted sesame seeds on the chicken once it's cooked in a skillet. I followed their suggestion to make brown rice for a side but went off on my own and made steamed shredded carrots for a veg instead of green beans with almonds. Carrots we had, no green beans except canned, so no green beans. It was a tour de force, AND it made enough for two meals. Good job, Barbara!
When I went into the living room to close the shade last night, look at what I saw. The neighbors around the bend had turned on their Christmas lights. Oh. My. God. Too early, people, way too early. At least they're blue and not red and green but, really? It's not Thanksgiving yet, and the grass is green. Ack.
November 16--Kathleen Francour, 15-733#2. Ella and Maisie poked their heads between the fence boards waiting to catch a glimpse of the newborn lamb. They had been dogging Jacob's heels for weeks since spring lambing began. Jacob had told them in the winter that sometimes ewes reject their lambs or don't survive the birthing so the lambs have to be bottle fed. Their eyes had gotten round with wonder and they had said that they would do the job. Ella was six and Maisie was five so Jacob told them that they might need help. Their heads shook in unison. "No, Papa," Maisie said, "we're big now, we can do it." So far sixteen lambs had been born and each ewe had stepped up to the job of mothering. The girls were getting discouraged. The last pregnant ewe was the bad-tempered black one that chased everyone who came too near. Ella and Maisie hung over the fence and watched the ewe pace and bleat hoping that there would be a lamb that needed their help today.
Now I really have to run. Seeyabye.